


In The Dark of the Night

by Pollydoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy's troubled by nightmares. Steve has a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Dark of the Night

Darcy wakes, sweating and breathless, fingertips clawing at the twisted mess of covers that she’s managed to wind herself into, and finally stills as she lays on her back and stares up at the darkness above her. Her dark hair is spread over the pillow and her own face, and her breath, hot and heavy, displaces it as she pants. 

It’s not the first time she’s had nightmares, and she knows full well it won’t be the last. Since Puente Antiguo, since London, it’s all been the same. Dark shadows of dreams that chase the corners of her eyes even as she wakes and goes about her day because the truth of it is that the nightmares haunt her at all times, not just in the reaches of the night like they do for other people. 

Sighing, she untangles herself from the covers and slips with bare feet, pale legs bright in the moonlight, and takes herself on walkabout. This is a familiar pattern, when she is disturbed by dreams of fire and death, that reach into the innermost fears that tangle around her heart and mind and play out as she twitches in sleep. She wanders, room to room, fingers idling across tables and the backs of chairs as she goes, touching but not really touching, seeing but not really looking, drifting her way across the tower. 

Searching for something she has yet to find, something she has yet to understand. 

She’s standing in front of the enormous glass windows in the common room, still wrapped in the comfort of the darkness, one palm pressed against the cool of the glass when he appears. Darcy knows the set of that footstep, the careful and measured way that he walks even barefoot. The authority that laces through every move he makes, even without trying. It’s not his fault, it’s how he’s built. 

They bred it into him, and now it’s as much a part of the man that has come to a halt some paces behind her as the deep blue eyes that she knows are casting across her body. She pulls her hand back from the glass and wraps her arms around herself, knowing but not caring that the movement will hitch the hem of the shirt she’s wearing scandalously high. Let him look, if he wants. 

Steve pauses behind the slight figure in front of him. Her dark hair falls carelessly over her shoulders and he can see by the way her fingertips are digging into the bunched material of her nightshirt and the soft flesh of her waist that she’s coiled and tense. His inner gentleman tries not to let his gaze linger too long on the way that the creamy-pale shirt has ridden upwards, now sitting high on one hip and dusting against the curve of her ass. 

For all that he is everything else they say about him, the miles of printed words and photos, the books and documentaries and that damn museum, Steve Rogers is still a man, and he is drawn to the long legs that are reflected in the glass in front of them, drawn to wondering what it would feel like to run his hand up, up, up, wondering how it would taste to do the same with his tongue. Whether she’d let him, whether she wants it too. 

“Captain.” She says, head turning slightly, her hair tumbling back as she looks to him, almost but not quite meeting his eyes. It’s a statement, not a question, and for a moment Steve feels a fool for coming to check on her. It’s not the first time he’s been aware that Darcy is wandering the tower, not the first time that he’s suspected that something is keeping her up in the dark of the night as the dawn starts to kiss the stars good night, but it is the first time his legs have swung off his bed, pushed back the covers, and tracked her down. 

Now he’s here, he thinks maybe it was a mistake. 

“Darcy-” He begins, not really sure what to say to her now that he has her in front of him, the pale beauty of her skin in the starlight bewitching him and tangling his tongue in his mouth, but she’s turned to him fully now and he can see her eyes. The pretty blue eyes that he’s had to tear his own away from too many times now for fear of giving away the desire that hides within him, those eyes are now fixed upon him and he thinks - oh god - he thinks he might just see some of that want reflected right back at him. 

“I had a nightmare.” She says simply, and somehow she’s moved closer to him, much closer, and he’s not sure how he missed her doing it but now he can feel the heat of her body as though she’s pressed against him, even though she still might be a world away from him. Steve takes a breath, a deep inhale, and with it comes the heady scent of Darcy’s perfume. It’s sweet and fruity, her signature scent which he’s always been a little amused by because Darcy is a great many things, but sweet is hardly one of them. 

No, Darcy is fierce and passionate, Darcy is a fighter. Darcy is, he reflects, like him. He’s always been told that opposites attract and maybe that’s so but in this girl he sees all the qualities about himself that he likes best, and he finds himself drawn to her all the more for seeing them. The way she will not back down. The way she pushes, the tilt of her head as she argues. The fact she always argues her corner, if she thinks it’s the right thing to do. 

He chastises himself for it, but still can’t help himself but imagine her in bed. 

All the passion, all that fight, wrapped up tightly in all those curves. He wants to make her sing, to feel her under him, look up at her over him, stretch her right out and then bring her close to him, skin against sweating skin as they beat the same drum of desire together. Over and over He wants to run his teeth over the taut tendons in her neck, clutch at her hips as he drives into her, feel her shudder around him and see those deep blue eyes close in pleasure that he’s given her. 

“Can’t sleep.” Darcy murmurs, and her head’s so close to him now that her hair is brushing lightly across his bare arms. It gives him gooseflesh and the sensation flashes across his whole body, sends it to his feet, up his spine, to his mouth. The way that it overtakes him, re-wires his nervous system, is the excuse he gives himself for what he says next. 

“You need to exhaust yourself.” 

“I’m not looking for a late night gym session, Cap.” 

“That’s not what I was thinking.” He says in a low voice, chancing himself to run one finger - just one - around the bare skin of one thigh where her shirt has hitched up. She glances down at the finger which pauses, now barely even touching her, and bites her lip. Steve holds his breath and edges the finger back against the heat of her skin, dragging it across the curve of her thigh and then tripping upwards until he’s grazing the lacy trim of her panties as it lays over the tops of her legs. 

Darcy lets out a small gasp of air, that he feels more than hears against the open collar of his shirt. One hand has found the crook of his elbow and she’s clutching at him, fingers winding into his shirt, and it’s this movement that gives him the courage to be bold with her. She gasps again, a small little sound against his chest, as he drops his head to her shoulder and lets that single digit work its way across the thin material that covers her. 

She rolls her head into his shoulder and presses wet lips against him, he bites gently against the roll of her neck as it tilts to one side and he’s rewarded for his efforts with a low groan. His finger, exploring gently and tracing little circles against her, finds that the material it’s dancing against grows wetter and wetter the more he moves. 

“Steve-” Her voice breaks on his name and he grins into the warmth of her neck, his free arm snaking around her and dragging her body flush to his. His hand spreads across her ass and nimble fingers pull aside the cotton briefs so that his other can find its way more freely. He pulls it back for a moment, sucking one finger then another into his mouth, then feels his way back to her. 

She’s bare, wet and wanting, and Steve resists the primal urge crawling in the bottom of his stomach that screams at him to plunge straight inside. Instead he teases, running his slick fingers up and down with the barest of touches, again and again until she’s trembling against him. Then, and only then, does he slip a finger up into her and she keens into his ear as he finds his way. 

“This okay?” He asks breathlessly, as turned on as she is, and Darcy nods, unable to speak. 

Her hands are clutching at him, one against his arm and the other pressed against his chest, her breasts heaving and pushed against him. He can feel the hard peaks of her nipples and realises with a groan of his own that she’s not wearing a bra. Steve’s breath is coming in fits and starts almost as hard as he is now, jumping and jerking from his lungs much as his cock is doing the same in his pants. 

Darcy cries out as he pushes up another finger into her, jostling and twisting within her tight, slick heat. Steve lets his other hand curve around her ass, feel its way around that soft skin then hook around her and pull until she’s got one leg wrapped around his hip, her other foot on tiptoe and forcing her body to lean right into his. The stretch pulls her open in a delicious way and somehow he finds the space for a third finger to join its brothers as he crooks them into her and begins to ease them in and out. 

He starts slow, enjoying the soft little breaths that he’s drawing from her, the way her eyes are half-lidded and the sheen of sweat across her collarbone that he bends to taste with his tongue skipping along it. Then he increases the pace, more and more until he’s hammering up into her and Darcy, pretty little Darcy, is practically bouncing on his hand. His thumb twists upwards and glances across her and then she’s crying out for more.

Her fists clench into his shirt, twisting the fabric as she pants, and it’s now that he bends to kiss her, claiming her mouth with his tongue as she’s jerking against him; body shivery and movement uncontrolled under his touch. Her hands find their way from his shirt to the back of his neck, pulling him down eagerly and she’s giving as good as she gets as she twists herself on his fingers, so wanton and willing for what he’s able to do for her. 

“Steve - God - Steve.” Darcy’s now chanting his name against his throat and peppering the pauses with open mouthed kisses that become sloppier the more he drives up into her. His cock is jerking in his pants as it glances against her hip, desperate for friction the way she’s undulating against him now, and his thumb is vibrating its way over her, fingers still thrumming wet and slipping up and back and up, again and again until she comes with cry that he chases down with his mouth swallowing it up like it belongs to him. 

Steve, still kissing her deeply, slips his fingers from her and she moans a little at the loss, rolling her head back in pleasure, feeling her limbs turn languid as her body sends little bursts of aftershocks around her veins. She collapses into his chest and he chuckles, pleased with himself. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them thoughtfully, enjoying the taste of her as he keeps ahold of her still with the other, keeping her upright and against him. 

He presses a tender kiss to her neck, brushing masses of dark hair out of the way in order to expose the pale skin there. She responded by winding herself around him, rocking against his erection as it juts into her. Steve’s still got one hand hooked around her thigh and she’s balanced against him just so. He finds himself pressing back into her and a groan escapes him. 

Darcy pulls her head back, his lips slipping from her neck, and looks up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Her hands creep up and splay against his chest, pulling open the shirt he’s still somehow wearing. 

“Captain,” She breathes, and accompanies the word with a low but deliberate thrust against his cock that has his breath stuttering from his mouth and his eyes closing. He's not entirely sure he could swear to his reaction only being caused by her movement, and not because her cherry red lips forming his title sets his inner demon off whispering unspeakable things. 

“Are you having trouble sleeping too?” 

He nods dumbly, unable to answer her in any other way as his cock is clamouring for more than its currently getting, as she rubs herself against him slowly, dragging her lower lip into her mouth and letting out a little sigh as he glances against her. Darcy kisses him slowly, with a dark intent that leaves him panting when she pulls back and away from him. Keeping her eyes locked on his and a tiny smile tugging at her lips, her hands find the edges of her panties and she wriggles out of them, kicking them away as they drop to her ankles. 

Steve thinks he might have swallowed his own tongue in an effort not to curse. 

“Come here.” Darcy crooks a finger at him and, as he walks towards her she backs up until she’s pressed against the glass windows. She shivers as her bare flesh is chilled where it is touches the surface, shivers into the embrace he folds around her. Steve lowers her mouth to capture hers, and she’s wound a leg around him again, tugging him closer until he’s pressed up against her with one hand flat against the glass behind her head and the other clutching desperately at her waist. 

Her hands are at his waistband, pushing his sweats down just enough that his cock can fall free. He’s hard, impossibly so, and her hand clasped tight around him only pushes more blood through it until he thinks he might faint. Darcy grins as she pumps him, once, twice, and Steve mutters a litany of swear words under his breath that only widen her grin. 

His hand falls from her waist to pull her up, back flat against the window and one leg locked around his waist. The other is on tiptoe again, and Steve bites his lip as she brings his cock to slide against her. She’s wet, so wet, and she gasps as he pushes up just so, head nestled into her and desperate for more. 

“Darce-” He manages to say, and his eyes are pleading with her to tell him to continue, to tell him she wants this, wants him. Darcy responds by rocking her hips forward and sinking onto him in a wet slide that has them both groaning at the feel of it. He can feel her toes curl as her leg bends around his waist, jerking him closer to her and pulling him in. He slams his hand flat against the glass, sucking in a deep breath, and they feel the window shake slightly under his strength.

“Steve,” She pants, pushing against him as much as she is able to in the awkward position she’s in. “Steve, for god’s sake move.” He grins and complies, thrusting up into her. He moves slowly at first, adjusting for the way she’s wrapped around him and that she’s balanced on one foot, but the way that she feels around him and the grasp of her hand against his shirt soon has him pounding into her. 

The glass shakes and she cries out against his chest, telling him in a broken voice not to stop, that she loves the feel of him hard inside her, that he needs to go faster. Steve can do nothing but what she asks, grabbing at the curve of her ass and burying his face into the mess of her that’s fallen over her shoulder. 

If he looked he’d see the blinking lights of the city spread out below them, the way that the dawn is beginning to creep over the horizon and the last of the night start to steal away into the shadows. Steve is not looking at the goddamn city. Steve is burying himself into Darcy and loving every minute of it, the way that she responds, her hands tangling behind his neck and the breathless little sighs that he’s drawing from her on every thrust. 

He can feel her begin to stutter around him and he’s selfishly grateful, for he can feel a familiar tight sensation within himself and does not want to be the man that finishes ahead of his girl, for all that he’s already teased a close from her. 

“Darcy,” He whispers, bringing his head back and brushing away damp curls from her pretty little face as her mouth forms a perfect O. “Darcy, come for me. I want to feel you.” He follows his words with a brush of his lips against hers, and a one-two-three snapping of his hips against hers. He’s rewarded with a low moan and a shuddering sensation as she collapses against him for the second time that night, and Steve allows himself to follow suit.

They remain, sweat-slick and exhausted, pressed against each other and both leaning against the window which is now fogged with condensation. Darcy is the first to stir, Steve’s head lolling against her shoulder with his eyes closed, she giggles and wriggles against him. He raises his head slowly, eyes a little unfocused, and she presses a chaste kiss to his lips. He accepts it, then deepens it, chasing her tongue with his own and running his hands up her sides and over her breasts. 

Darcy unhooks her leg from around his hips, not breaking the kiss, her own hands locking around his neck and dragging him closer. Steve smiles into it, happier than he’s been in a long time, just being in her arms and enveloped in the hazy afterglow of lovemaking. Finally, reluctantly, he pulls back and looks down at her. 

“Think you can sleep now?” He says, in a good impression of serious, fitting an errant lock of hair behind her ear as his blue eyes rake over her face. 

“I might have another nightmare,” She answers, just as seriously, looking up at him and pulling at his shirt to encourage him back closer to her. “You should probably come back with me, in case it does. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He grins and nods, before she captures him again and he’s lost in her kiss.


End file.
